


Being Close to You

by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)



Series: Sterek New Year's Extravaganza [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College Student Stiles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Derek Comes Back, Full Shift Werewolves, Getting Together, Hurt Derek, Jealous Derek, M/M, Mercenaries, Pining Derek, Protective Stiles, Wolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-26 15:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13238796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/isthatbloodonhisshirt
Summary: Realization dawned and Derek cursed himself viciously. How could he be stupid enough to forget Scott was a Werewolf? He could fuckingsmellhim! Scottknewit was him!“Stiles?” Scott asked uncertainly while Stiles started opening and closing various cabinets, looking for who knew what. “That’s not a d—”Derek snarled and let out a loud bark, eyes glowing blue in Scott’s direction since Stiles couldn’t see him from where he was standing. Scott scowled at him, moving closer to him and inhaling pointedly.“What are you doing here, Derek?” Scott asked, voice low enough that Stiles wouldn’t hear. He wasn’t listening anyway, still panicking and randomly opening things.(SNYE - January 6th - Pining)





	Being Close to You

**Author's Note:**

> Teen Wolf (c) Jeff Davis

He didn’t know when it had started, just that it had long before he chose to acknowledge it. He supposed, at the time, a part of him was uncomfortable with the knowledge that he was older. While it was only a three year age gap, three years may as well have been three decades when the other party was only sixteen.

While the age of consent in Canada may have been sixteen, it most certainly was not in the United States, and a part of him felt like that was why he misunderstood the feelings. That was why he’d spent years pushing him away, sometimes violently, and keeping his guard up.

Of course, after a time, he started lowering his barriers without meaning to, but he remembered the exact moment he realized he was in love with him.

It had been when he’d been lying on the hard dirt ground in the middle of some ruins in the desert of Mexico, human and dying. It had been when he’d looked past Braeden at Stiles, and seen the fear on his face.

When he’d shouted, “Go. Stiles, go!” And Stiles had started to leave, but had turned back to look at him, and for a moment, he had looked torn.

He had looked like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to run inside and save his best friend—his _best friend_  of over a decade—or stay outside to make sure Derek, a Werewolf who had done nothing but push him away and physically harmed him, would survive.

That was the moment Derek realized, “Holy shit. I’m in love with Stiles.”

It had been such a panicked realization that, for the first time, he had been scared to die. Because he had something to _live_  for now. He had a reason to survive, a reason to fight, to keep breathing.

In the end, Derek didn’t know if it was that determination or just his body going “Oh, he’s good now” that had saved his life. He’d turned into a wolf, done what he’d had to, and then returned with everyone else to Beacon Hills.

The second he’d arrived back at the loft, Derek had done exactly the same thing he always did when something changed in his life.

He ran.

Liking Stiles was more acceptable, he was a month from being eighteen, Derek was only twenty-one, it was feasible. But if Derek had Stiles, then he ran the risk of being happy. If he was happy, something would happen to Stiles.

Nevermind that Derek had no delusions of Stiles being interested in him, so there was another thing to run away from.

Pain. Rejection. Heartbreak.

He had had feelings for Stiles for at least two years, so while he didn’t like thinking about things like “heartbreak,” he knew without a shadow of a doubt that would be what he would feel if Stiles rejected him.

So, Derek got to his loft, grabbed a bag, packed his shit, and drove off in the Camaro without a backwards glance. He’d texted Deaton three days later to say he was alive and gone and not coming back, and then gotten rid of it.

Two years on the road, innumerable one night stands, and still Derek went to bed and woke up thinking about Stiles.

He hadn’t wanted to ever go back to Beacon Hills. He’d wanted to leave that place behind him, along with all the people in it. He’d wanted to avoid the pain and memories it brought him when he thought of it, but the longer he stayed away, the more he obsessed.

He kept thinking about Stiles’ crooked smile, his boisterous laugh, the mischievous glint in his eyes. He thought about the spattering of moles across his skin and how many more he had in places Derek had yet to explore. He thought about the fact that he still didn’t know Stiles’ real name, didn’t know if he liked burgers and curly fries because it was tradition with his dad or if he _actually_  liked burgers and curly fries.

He thought about Stiles’ mom, about whether or not she was buried close to his family. About if he had started learning magic from Deaton, if he even still did the whole Supernatural thing.

Maybe he’d gone off to university and left everyone and everything behind. Maybe he’d moved away, changed his name, disappeared and tried to pretend he’d never known about Werewolves and Banshees and Hellhounds.

Derek obsessed, and the more he obsessed, the closer he found himself to Beacon Hills until one day he was parked on the shoulder of a road at four in the morning staring at a sign that read, “Welcome to Beacon Hills.”

He knew he was being stupid, and had promised himself he wouldn’t do this, but eventually he drove into town. Everything looked exactly the same, and he ended up driving out to the preserve and hiding his car in the woods. He didn’t need anyone recognizing it and knowing he was back in town.

Wanting to avoid questions, Derek stripped out of his clothes, shoving them into his car and then turned into a wolf. He looked small enough compared to normal wolves that he knew he could pass as a dog, so he didn’t concern himself with being shot. Besides, he’d just heal and then be super pissed about it.

He made his way towards Stiles’ house, and noticed there was no Jeep. He hung around in the shadows at the side of the house for a few days, only leaving to catch the occasional squirrel or rabbit and relieving himself. He saw the sheriff come and go regularly, but no Stiles.

It was only a few days later that he realized it was the middle of the year, and Stiles was likely still at school. Derek could wait, but he had no guarantee Stiles would come back at all, so he opted to leave before he couldn’t anymore. He knew that the moment he actually _saw_  Stiles again, he would probably never leave.

He waited for the cover of darkness after his eleventh day of hanging around Stiles’ house before heading out. It was past midnight by then, Derek having wanted fewer cars on the road, and he slowly headed back for the preserve to change back into a human and get the hell out of there.

He had even almost made it, having gotten past the first row of trees when he froze, a sound meeting his ears. He hadn’t heard it in a very long time, but it was a sound he knew well. A sound that suggested it was going to break down at any second, despite its owner adamant that it would outlast him.

Turning and poking his head just past the tree-line, he stared down the road at the headlights coming his way. He could barely hear Stiles singing along to the music over the sound of the engine, which was much worse than it had been the last time Derek had been around.

As he watched it approach, he had what he could only assume was a moment of insanity, because he got an idea, and debated whether or not to follow through with it the entire time he watched Stiles’ Jeep barrel towards him.

A split second before it would pass, Derek decided to just fucking do it and raced for the Jeep as fast as he could. He wasn’t stupid enough to let Stiles hit him, he didn’t know that he wouldn’t actually injure himself irreparably, so instead he just ran as fast as he could at the right-side front quarter panel of the Jeep and crashed into it hard enough to break the headlight.

Pain exploded across his shoulder at the action, but he ignored it while Stiles passed, car swerving and Stiles swearing loudly while he slammed on the brakes.

Derek immediately lay down on the road directly behind where he’d hit the Jeep, trying to look pathetic and not entirely sure he was succeeding.

“Oh God!” Stiles’ voice exclaimed once the car was stopped and the door had opened. “Oh God, oh God, oh God!”

Running footsteps raced towards him and then Derek’s senses were overwhelmed with the scent of Stiles. He smelled like sweat and freshly cut grass and, at this current moment, anxiety. His brown eyes were wide and horrified while he stared down at Derek, hands hovering over him and cursing under his breath.

“Shit, _shit_! Aw, buddy, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you.”

Of course Stiles would be speaking to him. Stiles didn’t know how to shut up, so it really didn’t matter that he was a dog.

“Oh man, I don’t… shit.” Stiles pulled out his phone and Derek tried to let out a whine when he realized he was being way too quiet.

Stiles’ hand fell tentatively on his head, scratching lightly.

“You’re gonna be okay, buddy, I promise. Yeah, Scotty? Are you back? Can you meet me at Deaton’s?”

 _“I got back about an hour ago, so I can, but why?”_  Scott asked, sounding tired on the other end. _“I thought we were meeting up tomorrow.”_

“I hit a dog,” Stiles said, voice tight while he continued to pet Derek. “I don’t know how bad it is, there’s no blood, but he’s not moving.”

 _“Sure, bring him by and I’ll meet you there,”_  Scott said with a sigh. It sounded like the absolute last thing he wanted to do, but he was a good friend and would do it for Stiles’ sake.

Hanging up the phone, Stiles stayed awkwardly on his knees beside Derek, looking unsure of what to do before carefully pushing his hands under Derek’s body.

Despite not feeling threatened, Derek’s hackles rose and he figured he should try and act more dog-like, so he growled low in his throat.

“I know, I know,” Stiles insisted, getting Derek into his arms and then turning to rush back to the Jeep. “It’s okay, I’m gonna take care of you. Well, really, Scott’s gonna take care of you, but I’m bringing you _to_  Scott, so it’s me by association.”

Stiles continued to ramble while he got the back door of the Jeep open with his foot, carefully manoeuvring Derek onto the seat and then slamming it shut.

Derek had forgotten how much Stiles could talk, not that he minded, it was just a bit surprising that he could talk _so_  much.

Stiles got behind the wheel and sped almost the entire way to Deaton’s. Thankfully there were few cars on the road, so no one was around to tattle on the sheriff’s son speeding, but it was a relief when they finally arrived, Stiles climbing out and then leaning into the back seat for Derek.

He carried him awkwardly towards the back of the clinic and used his foot to bang on the door. After a few seconds, Scott opened it and Stiles squeezed past him with Derek in his arms, hurrying further into the clinic and towards one of the tables in the back room.

“I didn’t see him, I swear! I was just driving along and suddenly my car jerks and my headlight goes out and I climb out of the car and see a dog in the road.”

Stiles set him down on one of the operating tables and Derek tensed at how cold it was. Even though he had fur now, it was still a shock against his skin. He lifted his head so he could watch Scott walk into the room, and noticed that he was frowning.

Realization dawned and Derek cursed himself viciously. How could he be stupid enough to forget Scott was a Werewolf? He could fucking _smell_  him! Scott _knew_  it was him!

“Stiles?” Scott asked uncertainly while Stiles started opening and closing various cabinets, looking for who knew what. “That’s not a d—”

Derek snarled and let out a loud bark, eyes glowing blue in Scott’s direction since Stiles couldn’t see him from where he was standing. Scott scowled at him, moving closer to him and inhaling pointedly.

“What are you doing here, Derek?” Scott asked, voice low enough that Stiles wouldn’t hear. He wasn’t listening anyway, still panicking and randomly opening things.

Derek just growled low in his throat, eyes flashing blue again. Scott’s turned red and Derek had to fight hard to resist the urge to submit, but he managed to hold his ground. Scott let his eyes return to normal, giving him a suspicious look, and then straightened.

“Hey Stiles, you’re kind of making things worse, your anxiety is bothering the _dog_.” He gave Derek a look when he said the last word. “Can you wait outside?”

“Oh God, you have to put it down!” Stiles exclaimed, rounding on Scott, looking horrified. “You have to put it down and you don’t want me to watch!”

“Stiles, I’m not putting it down.” Scott rolled his eyes and pointed at the door. “Just go wait outside. I promise, when I walk out, the dog will be alive.”

“If you lie to me, Scotty, this will be the end of our friendship,” Stiles warned, pointing his finger at him, but he obeyed and headed for the exit, leaving the room and then pushing through the door at the back of the clinic.

Scott turned back to Derek, leaning back against one of the desks and crossing his arms, waiting expectantly.

Derek pretended not to notice, sitting up now that Stiles was gone so he was more comfortable. His shoulder had long since healed, so he didn’t even really need to be there. The two of them stared at one another for a long while, and Derek was content to just leave with Stiles without saying a word to Scott, except he spoke and effectively killed that thought.

“If you don’t tell me what’s going on right now, I’m telling Stiles it’s you.”

Growling low in his throat, Derek glared at him as best he could in wolf form, which had Scott pushing away from the desk and turning to head for the door.

Snapping his teeth loudly, Derek jumped off the table and then concentrated, turning back into a human and standing stiffly, his limbs uncomfortable after eleven days as a wolf. He stood on the other side of the table he’d been on, knowing it would offer a bit of privacy since he was naked, even though he didn’t care much. Scott likely did, and Derek didn’t want _Scott_  staring at his junk, anyway.

“So it is you,” Scott said, as if not entirely certain until he actually saw him. “What are you doing here, Derek?”

“I live here,” he replied gruffly, voice scratchy from disuse.

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Scott eyed him, leaning back again and crossing his arms. “Did Stiles even hit you with his car?”

Derek didn’t answer and Scott shook his head, looking like he wanted to say something, but not sure what. They stood in silence for a long while, Scott thinking and Derek watching him warily. If Scott hadn’t been there, Stiles would’ve brought him to Deaton, who couldn’t sniff out a Werewolf. He may have suspected it when he realized he was a wolf and not a dog, but after confirming he wasn’t a risk to Stiles, Deaton would’ve let this go. He liked a good secret, creepy fucker.

Scott, on the other hand, wasn’t going to let this go. He was going to make him explain himself, and Derek didn’t have an explanation for him. Not one that he wanted to share, anyway, so they just stood in silence for an extremely long time, Derek’s feet getting cold since the linoleum wasn’t exactly heated.

After almost ten minutes, the back door banged open again, suggesting Stiles had propped it open, and Derek instantly turned back into a wolf, body shifting so quickly it actually hurt and he let out a whine. He’d just made it into full wolf form when Stiles hurried back into the room, looking around worriedly until he spotted Derek coming around the table.

“What’s taking so long?” Stiles asked, frowning at Scott. “I thought you’d killed him and run out the front door.”

“Tempting,” Scott muttered, but it was too quiet for Stiles to hear.

Derek just glared at him as best he could in his wolf form and padded over to Stiles, bumping his snout against his leg. Stiles bent down with a smile and started scratching at his neck and face with both hands.

“Hey buddy, are you doing okay? Scott patch you up?”

Derek could smell the irritation coming off Scott and turned to look at him while Stiles continued to scratch at his neck. It was pretty obvious that Scott wasn’t happy, but he just let out a slow exhale and shook his head, turning to snatch his keys off the desk he was leaning against and straightening.

“He’s fine. Probably just wanted some sympathy.”

“He hasn’t got a collar,” Stiles remarked. “Think he’s a stray? Looks pretty healthy for a dog who doesn’t belong to anyone.”

“He probably does, just let him out the door and he’ll figure himself out.”

“I can’t do that, what if someone _else_  hits him?” Stiles demanded, horrified.

“Stiles, he’s fine. Just shoo him away.”

“Since when are you heartless towards poor animals?” Stiles asked, still looking affronted at the mere thought of letting Derek go outside. “I’ll take him home, see about finding his owner in the morning.”

“Stiles, you can’t take him home,” Scott insisted, eyes on Derek, who growled at him.

“He’s fine,” Stiles insisted, waving one hand dismissively and standing, patting Derek’s head. “He didn’t bite my face off when I picked him up after I hit him, so he obviously isn’t vicious.”

Scott sputtered, and tried to talk Stiles out of taking him home the entire walk to the back door. When they reached it, Stiles thanked Scott and grabbed the scruff at the back of Derek’s neck before opening the door. Derek made sure to stay right beside him the entire way to the Jeep, and when Stiles opened the back door, he waited to be released and jumped inside without prompting, lying down and getting comfortable, turning to look at Stiles.

The other grinned at him and shut the door. Derek sat up only long enough to smirk out at Scott. He didn’t know if he _could_  smirk as a wolf, but the livid look on Scott’s face suggested he got the message across.

Derek lay back down, getting comfortable, and burying his face in the upholster, inhaling Stiles’ scent. God, he’d missed this. He’d missed him. Being near him right now was _killing_  him, but he knew better than to turn back into a human. He and Stiles hadn’t ever had the best relationship, and as much as he hated that, he’d rather have him like this than not at all.

Maybe he would be okay being a wolf—well, dog. Maybe this was how he could spend the rest of his life. Close to Stiles, and happy.

He didn’t think it’d be so bad being an animal as long as he got to keep Stiles.

They arrived at the house a few minutes later and Stiles left him in the car while he went to the trunk and pulled out a duffel bag, leaving everything else where it was. Once he had it in his hand, he opened the door and tried to grab at Derek’s scruff, but he quickly slipped past him and trotted to the front door before Stiles could even finish swearing. He sat beside it and turned to stare expectantly at Stiles.

“Huh,” he said, eying him before shutting the door and heading up the steps to the front porch. “You’re pretty smart.”

Derek waited patiently while Stiles got the door unlocked, and followed him into the house. They moved silently, the sheriff’s cruiser parked beside the Jeep, which meant he was home and likely sleeping. Derek made sure to stay silent, following Stiles around the house while he dropped his bag off in his room, and started getting ready for bed.

Once he was done in the bathroom, he came back to his room where Derek was, lying at the end of his bed.

“Come on, let’s take you out one last time before bed. Dad will kill me if you piss in the house.” He motioned for Derek to follow him, then turned and headed down the stairs. “Actually, dad will kill me for having you in the house at all,” he muttered to himself.

Derek just followed obediently, and when Stiles opened the back door, he ran to a spot that was covered and did his business. Wolf or not, he didn’t want Stiles watching him piss, he wasn’t into that.

Returning to the back door quickly, Stiles shut and locked it before leading the way back upstairs. When they entered his room, Stiles shut the door behind them and turned off the light. He almost tripped over Derek on his way to the bed, but the wolf moved quickly so that he didn’t. He waited for Stiles to get settled, then jumped onto the bed, lying down on Stiles’ feet and burying his face against the blankets.

He was trying to drift off, actually sleeping somewhere comfortable for the first time in a while, but Stiles didn’t seem like he was ready to pass out. Derek could practically hear the gears in his head turning.

“You need a name,” he said, Derek’s ear twitching to show he was listening, but keeping his face buried in the covers, eyes closed. “I know you probably belong to someone, but I should still name you. I’ve always wanted a dog, so this works out. What about Rover?”

Derek’s eyes opened at that and he tried for a scowl. Stiles grinned down the length of his body at him, and it _did things_  to Derek. Seeing Stiles staring down his body like that, _God_. Maybe sleeping at his feet was a bad idea.

“Okay, not Rover. What about Spot? Bones? Scruffy?” Derek was glad Stiles could tell how unimpressed he was with all the name choices, because he wouldn’t respond to any of those. “You’re a grumpy little shit, aren’t you?” Stiles shifted his feet under the covers and Derek growled, which earned him a laugh. “I should just call you Sourwolf, but that name’s already taken. Suppose I’ll just call you Dog for now, then.”

Derek could live with that so he closed his eyes again.

“Dog it is. Night.”

Figures Stiles would choose a completely idiotic name.

* * *

Derek heard the sheriff’s alarm go off a few hours later, eyes opening slowly and looking around the room sleepily. The scent of Stiles was almost overpowering, especially in this form, and he didn’t know how he’d managed to fall asleep with it so potent.

He closed his eyes again, but listened to the sheriff move around in his bedroom. He took a shower and got dressed before his door opened and he padded quietly down the hall.

When he stopped outside Stiles’ door, Derek raised his head, staring at it, and watching it open so the sheriff could poke his head inside. He started at the sight of Derek—well, a dog, he supposed—and let out a loud sigh before pushing the door open fully and stepping into the room, rubbing at his eyes tiredly.

“Really, Stiles?”

The only response he received was a soft snore, Stiles passed out and drooling on his pillow. Derek hadn’t even known it was possible to drool while lying on one’s back, but Stiles was somehow managing, an impressive wet spot on his pillow.

“Stiles,” the sheriff called again.

When Stiles still didn’t move, Derek resisted the urge to roll his eyes, wondering how he’d stayed alive this long. Derek let out a loud bark, Stiles jerking upright with a mumbled exclamation and blinking open bleary eyes. He looked around before focussing on his dad at the door. 

“Hey dad,” he said around a yawn, stretching and grunting. “Nice to see you. Thanks for the wakeup, but as you may know, it’s reading week and I intend to sleep the vacation away, so I love you, but bye.” Stiles lay back down and closed his eyes.

The sheriff wandered towards the bed, eying Derek warily despite the fact that he’d literally done nothing, and stopped beside Stiles, giving him a shake.

“There’s a dog on your bed.”

“I hit it with my car,” Stiles mumbled sleepily.

“So you brought it home?”

“He’s fine.” Stiles batted one hand in his father’s direction, but missed hitting him each time.

“Stiles,” the sheriff said, exasperated, but Stiles just let out a whine and his father sighed. He eyed the dog for a few moments, then shook his head. “If it eats your face, that’s on you.”

Stiles grunted something incomprehensible and started snoring again before the sheriff had even left the room. He started to close the door, then paused and turned to point at Derek.

“If you piss in my house, I don’t care who owns you, I’m turning you into a rug.”

Derek just stared at him until he shut the door, then lay back down. He changed angles so that he had a better view of Stiles, and let out a small sigh. Even when he was sleeping, mouth hanging open and snoring, he was still the most adorable fucking thing Derek had ever seen.

He wanted to get some more sleep, but it was hard to do now that he was so awake, and so close to Stiles. All he wanted to do was rub himself all over him so that Stiles smelled just like him, but he knew that wouldn’t go over well. Especially if Scott came over.

Hearing the sheriff leave the house, Derek jumped off the bed and, making sure Stiles was still sleeping, he got the door open—with some difficulty, but he managed—and padded out into the corridor. It had been days since he’d showered and had a real meal, so he figured he should do that while he had the chance.

Changing back into a human once he was in the bathroom, he kept one ear out for Stiles’ heartbeat, wanting to make sure he caught him if it sped up. After relieving himself, he jumped into the shower and made sure the sound of it didn’t wake Stiles. He washed his hair twice to make sure all the dirt and grime was out of it, and then soaped himself up.

Still keeping an ear out for Stiles, he grit his teeth and beat one off quickly in the shower, one hand braced against the tile while the other worked furiously between his legs. It had been a long time since he’d been this turned on, and as usual, it was because of Stiles.

This was definitely a bad idea, staying here, but he couldn’t leave now. Maybe in a few days.

Or never. Never was good, too.

Drying off with a spare towel from under the sink and hoping no one noticed the extra towel in the wash, Derek scowled at his reflection in the mirror, his beard getting a little crazy. He knew he shouldn’t bother with it, since he was going to turn back into a wolf soon, but he couldn’t help wanting to keep it neatly trimmed.

Knowing he shouldn’t, he pulled Stiles’ razor from his travel case on the counter and got to work fixing it into some semblance of order. He drew the line at using his toothbrush, but he found an unopened one under the sink and used that to brush his teeth, hiding it back in the package and shoving it under the stack of towels.

Making sure Stiles was still sleeping, he headed to the kitchen naked and almost groaned at the smell of coffee. The pot was almost full, and he was sure Stiles wouldn’t notice a cup missing so he poured himself some and drank it while perusing the contents of the fridge and pantry.

Choosing to go with what was simple, he ate a bowl of cereal and stared out the back window, chewing thoughtfully. He needed to figure out what he was going to do about Scott. If he told him, things could end badly, and he didn’t want to upset Stiles. He knew the safest thing to do now was admit the truth, but he couldn’t do that. He just—wanted time. Just a few days, then he’d drop the charade.

Finishing up his cereal and coffee, Derek washed and dried what he’d used before putting it back in the cabinets. He stood in the kitchen for a few moments, trying to figure out what to do with himself, then decided to just go back upstairs.

He snuck silently back into the room, shutting the door without a sound, and then shifted back into a wolf. Jumping back onto the bed, Stiles snorted, but kept sleeping. He was lying on his stomach now, one arm thrown over the side of the bed, and almost sideways on the mattress.

Derek stared at him, finding it annoying he thought he was endearing, and lay down against Stiles’ side, burying his face in his armpit.

He ended up falling asleep once more, and only woke up when Stiles’ phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand. Stiles let out a groan, one hand leaving the bed to pat around the surface of the small table until he found his phone.

He brought it to his ear once he’d swiped the bottom, eyes still closed and let out an incomprehensible sound.

 _“I knew you’d still be sleeping,”_  a girl’s voice teased.

Derek’s head jerked up, not recognizing it, and instantly suspicious, especially since Stiles woke up a bit more and a dopey smile crossed his features.

“You know me,” he mumbled sleepily, licking his lips and letting out a soft exhale, eyes still closed. “I can sleep forever.”

_“Uh huh. I’m almost there, so maybe try and look presentable.”_

Stiles let out a loud, whining moan, but hung up, presumably because he was going to obey. Letting out another long exhale, he tossed the phone back onto the nightstand and opened his eyes, looking right at Derek.

He sat up quickly, hair sticking up on one side of his head, and matted down on the other. “Oh shit! I’m so sorry! Did dad let you out earlier? Shit, you must need to piss so bad!”

Stiles almost fell out of bed in his haste to get up, rushing to the bedroom door and hurrying out of the room. Derek followed him, feeling a little numb. A girl was coming over, and of _course_  Stiles was seeing someone. It had been two years, and Stiles was in university—as far he could tell—so of _course_  someone had fucking taken advantage of him being single. Stiles was funny, and considerate, and kind, and smart, and fucking _gorgeous_.

Derek scowled grumpily the whole way down the stairs and trotted obediently outside when Stiles opened the back door. He didn’t actually need to piss since he’d gone earlier, but he went behind one of the bushes anyway to make Stiles think he was, and then headed back into the house.

“I doubt we have any food for you,” Stiles said, opening the fridge and looking through it. “Shit, I’ll have to run out and grab you something when Becca gets here.”

Becca. That had to be the girl on the phone. Derek hadn’t even met her, and he already hated her. Stiles had agreed to get up just because she was coming over. Anyone who could do that was someone Derek wasn’t going to like, because very little outside of Supernatural shittiness got Stiles out of bed, Derek knew this from experience.

He went to lie down grumpily on the couch while Stiles went back upstairs to get dressed. He was still banging around upstairs when a car pulled into the driveway, Derek glaring out the window angrily. Maybe he could scare her away, though he had to be careful what he did or Stiles would get rid of him right away, and he really didn’t want that.

The girl stepping out of the car was beautiful, and while Derek was pissed off and hated her, he was at least glad Stiles had managed to score such a good looking girlfriend. He deserved someone as attractive as him, he’d really settled when he’d been dating Malia, in Derek’s opinion.

He watched her walk up the drive, wearing a skirt that was much too short, a tank top, and sunglasses perched on her head, keeping her blonde curls off her face. When she stepped up onto the porch, he could tell she was wearing heels, and he forced himself to remain calm when she rang the doorbell.

There was a thump upstairs, and then Stiles raced down the stairs, dressed in real clothes but with his hair still all over the place. He gave Derek a weird look on his way to the door.

“You are literally the chillest dog. I’m totally keeping you if no one claims you.”

That, at least, made Derek happy to hear. But the happiness was short-lived when Stiles opened the door and greeted Becca with a happy exclamation of her name.

“I can’t believe you were still sleeping when I called,” she insisted, stepping into the house and walking into the living room. Her eyes skirted briefly over Derek when she went for the couch and she paused, Stiles having followed her. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“I don’t. I mean, I don’t think.”

“You don’t think?” she asked, turning to give him a look.

“I kind of hit him with the Jeep last night,” Stiles admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “I didn’t see a collar, so I’m not sure if he belongs to someone or not, but if he doesn’t, I’m totally keeping him. Had him for one day, and I’m already attached.”

The girl scoffed and finished her trek to the couch, taking a seat beside Derek. He just stared at her, unimpressed, and a small smile formed on her lips. Something about her scent bugged him, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. She smelled too much like something he couldn’t place, and he really didn’t like how she was looking at him.

Deciding not to dwell on it, he rested his head down on his front paws, but kept his eyes on her. She was uninteresting, and he wanted to forget she was even there. She and Stiles were probably going to be heading out soon anyway, so he’d be left alone, and that _really_  bugged him.

“You want some water or something? Coffee?” Stiles asked, heading for the kitchen.

“Sure, I’ll have a coffee,” she said, not looking away from Derek.

When Stiles was fully out of sight and banging around in the kitchen, Becca smiled widely and leaned forward, her face moving closer to Derek’s.

“I know what you are,” she informed him, and Derek’s head snapped up when her eyes flashed red. “You better have a good explanation, because I am going to rip your throat out if you touch him.”

Was it possible for Stiles to fucking _stop_  making friends with dangerous people who could ruin everything for Derek? He already had to figure out what to do about Scott, now this fucking new girlfriend of Stiles’ was an Alpha, too?

Derek should’ve just stayed away, because now he felt like he was going to get _chased_  away and that would destroy him a lot more than having _chosen_  to stay away.

“Sorry if it’s bitter,” Stiles said while walking back into the living room, Becca straightening instantly and smiling at him when he handed her a cup, another in his other hand for himself. “My dad made it, and he likes drinking battery acid.” Stiles fell down on the other end of the couch, free hand burying itself into Derek’s flank and scratching idly while he sipped his coffee.

“I’ll live.” She smiled and sipped her coffee, but her eyes were on Derek.

They were silent for a few moments, both of them drinking, and Derek realized Stiles was usually never this quiet. It also occurred to him that Stiles hadn’t taken a seat beside her, which was an odd thing for him to do considering she was there.

“How long are you planning on sticking around?”

“Well, it was only going to be a day or two, but I think I might stick around longer.” She was staring at Derek while she said it, and he scowled, dropping his head back on his paws. He’d have to get her alone so he could turn back into a human and explain.

He wasn’t sure _what_  he was going to explain, since he certainly wasn’t going to tell a stranger that he was doing this to stay close to Stiles, but he’d have to figure something out.

“Uh, is this a wolf thing?” Stiles asked, making Becca look up at him for the first time since she’d sat down.

“What?”

“Are you asserting your dominance with my dog or something? You’re staring pretty hard.”

“Just making sure he knows his place,” she replied cheerfully, Derek growling low in his throat. Her eyes shot back down to him, the edges red. “What’s his name, anyway?”

“Dog.”

Becca looked back up at him, giving Stiles an unimpressed look. “Dog? You can’t name a dog Dog, Stiles.”

He shrugged, setting his empty cup down on the coffee table and splaying out more comfortably on the couch, still scratching at Derek’s flank. “I couldn’t think of anything. What do you suggest?”

“Loki,” she responded immediately. “You know, the trickster God?” She looked back down at Derek then, and he _really_  wanted to bite her face off.

“Nah, too Marvel. You know I like DC better.” Stiles thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “Robin.”

“Robin?” Becca asked. Derek didn’t mind that name, so he didn’t react, shifting his face slightly so it was resting more comfortably against his paws.

“Sure. I’m always the side character, what with being friends with a million Werewolves. I finally have my own sidekick! The Robin to my Batman, if you will. So, Robin.”

“That’s a stupid name,” Becca informed him, standing and setting down her coffee cup before smoothing out her skirt. “Ready to go?” she asked, pulling her sunglasses off her head and perching them on her nose.

“Sure, just give me a second to grab my keys.” Stiles stood and rushed back to the stairs, pounding up them loudly.

Derek raised his head, the two of them having a staredown. He didn’t know what she was looking for, but she scowled and crossed her arms unhappily, suggesting she hadn’t found it. They were still staring at one another when Stiles returned, flipping his keys in his hand.

“Come on, let’s go.” Stiles motioned the door and patted his leg, looking at Derek.

“He’s coming with us?” Becca asked, voice sharper than he was sure she meant it to be, because Stiles gave her a weird look.

“Yeah. I’m gonna drop you off with Scott and head to Petsmart. I need to grab him some food, and I figure I should get him a collar and stuff. Even if he ends up belonging to someone, I don’t want my dad fining me for not having him registered.”

Becca wasn’t happy about that, but she said nothing while heading to the door. Derek hopped off the couch and followed, exiting the house and waiting beside Stiles while he locked the door.

When they reached the Jeep, he opened the back door and Derek hopped in, Stiles shutting it while Becca got into the passenger seat. She lowered the visor and snapped open the mirror, Derek meeting her eyes in it. She was going to watch him as long as she could, and even when they got to Scott’s, she probably wouldn’t let Stiles leave with him alone.

Stiles got behind the wheel and they backed out of the drive, leaving Becca’s convertible on the curb. It looked like it cost as much as Jackson’s old Porsche.

“So how’s Sarah?” Stiles asked while they drove. “How come she didn’t come with you?”

“She was worried about being around another Alpha,” Becca said, still watching Derek in the mirror. “She saw me almost die, so she wasn’t eager to meet another one.” Becca looked away from Derek again, and he smelled faint anxiety coming from her. “I’m not ready to be near another Alpha, to be honest.”

“I promise, Scott’s great,” Stiles said, turning at the next corner. “I know what happened sucked, but that Alpha was a jerkwad of epic proportions. He deserved to die like he did, and while I know you didn’t want to be an Alpha, you’re gonna be great.” Stiles placed one hand on hers and Derek growled, looking out the window to avoid looking at their linked hands.

“I only won because you showed up with your bat,” she muttered. “I’m not ready to be an Alpha.”

“Nobody is,” Stiles admitted. “Scott wasn’t when he turned. Derek wasn’t when he did, either. But you grow into it. You learn from it. And Scott will help you figure things out, he’s a good guy.”

“Still no word from Derek then?”

Derek looked back at them when Becca asked this, extremely interested. Stiles didn’t notice, but Becca glanced at him briefly in the mirror before dismissing him and focussing back on Stiles.

“No,” he said quietly, hands tightening around the wheel. “He doesn’t have to call daily, but a text every now and then so we know he’s still alive would be nice.” Stiles raked an agitated hand through his hair, and Derek realized that Stiles was worried about him. Stiles was actually legitimately worried about him.

He’d had no idea.

He’d assumed the second he’d left, everyone had kind of said ‘good riddance’ and that was that, but Stiles’ reaction suggested otherwise.

“I’m sure he’s okay,” Becca said, leaning over and resting her chin on Stiles’ shoulder. “He’ll come back when he’s done with whatever he’s doing, I’m sure.”

“I’m not,” Stiles whispered, but before Becca could say anything else, he turned into Scott’s driveway and killed the engine. “Wait here. He knows you’re coming, I told him yesterday, but I didn’t get a chance to call him this morning.”

“Sure.”

Stiles climbed out of the car, but before he shut the door, Derek leapt over the partition and hopped out as well. Stiles just shrugged, not questioning it, and shut the door, the two of them heading up the porch. Stiles rang the bell, and Scott answered a few seconds later. His eyes went from Stiles, to Derek, sitting perfectly still at his feet. He scowled, then looked past them both at the car.

“Is that Becca?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said.

“Where’s her girlfriend?”

Derek perked up at that, but only Scott noticed. Stiles was too busy being oblivious.

“Becca said Sarah was too scared to be around another Alpha. Becca’s kind of nervous about it, too, but she’s here, so she’s willing to talk to you, at least.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Scott promised, slapping Stiles’ arm lightly. “I remember turning, and it’s not easy. I didn’t exactly have the best role model.” He gave Derek a pointed look, but Stiles had turned to look back at Becca in the car.

“I’ll go get her, then. I’ll stick around for a bit, if that’s okay, just to make sure everything’s cool. I mean, I know you’ll be fine, and she’s great, but just… peace of mind for all.”

“Sure.”

Stiles headed back down the porch steps, even though Derek was positive Becca had heard them. She likely just didn’t want to get out of the Jeep.

“Still here, then?”

Derek turned to look up at Scott, who was scowling down at him. He just gave him a look and Scott shook his head, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets and looking up when the Jeep door slammed shut.

Turning to watch Becca approach, Derek could see how tense she was, her entire demeanour different than it had been when she’d walked into the house earlier. Scott just offered her a smile when she and Stiles ascended the porch steps.

“Hi,” he said cheerfully, holding one hand out. “I’m Scott.”

“Becca,” she responded, but it took her a few seconds to take his hand.

Scott didn’t hold it for very long and motioned them all into the house. They followed, with Derek going last, padding into the living room and hopping onto one of the armchairs. Becca waited for Stiles to take a seat and then almost sat on his lap, she was so close to him. Scott could obviously smell her nervousness as well as Derek could, so he took the other armchair.

“Stiles tells me that you had to protect some Werewolves on campus from a rogue Alpha. That couldn’t have been easy, but I hope you realize how impressive you are.”

“Stiles is the one who’s impressive, not me,” she muttered.

Scott smiled and said, “Stiles is one of a kind, that’s for sure.”

The conversation was fairly stilted at first. Scott was doing well trying to speak to her, keeping things light and making sure he wasn’t pushing, and after a few minutes Becca started to relax. She was still nervous, but she didn’t look ready to jump onto Stiles’ back and use him as a shield anymore.

When Stiles asked if they would be okay alone, Becca confirmed that Scott actually seemed like a genuinely nice Alpha—which made Derek wonder how many horrible ones she’d met to make a comment like that—so Stiles advised them both that he was going to go.

“I need to grab Robin some food from the store before he eats _me_.” Stiles laughed, but Becca looked horrified, eyes shooting back to Derek.

He rolled his eyes, wondering how she could believe he would eat Stiles.

“You named him Robin?” Scott grinned. “Hilarious.”

“Shut up, it’s cool,” Stiles insisted, standing. “I’m gonna take a leak and head out.”

When Stiles was gone and they all heard the bathroom door shut, Becca turned back to Scott urgently.

“You know what he is, right?” she asked quietly, jerking her chin at Derek.

“I know _who_  he is, too,” Scott said, leaning back in his seat and turning to Derek. “Not sure what he’s doing here, though.”

“You’re sure Stiles is safe?”

Scott seemed surprised by her question, and his face softened, as if realizing just now that Becca truly cared about Stiles. Derek wanted to roll his eyes again, because Scott was an idiot. It was extremely obvious that Becca considered Stiles part of her Pack, which was going to make things awkward later when both Scott _and_  Becca wanted him on their side.

“Stiles has told you about Derek, right?” Scott asked, crossing his arms over his chest. When Becca nodded, Scott stared pointedly at Derek, lying in the armchair.

“Wait. Wait, _that’s_  Derek?” Becca looked angry now, turning on him. “Stiles has been worried about you for _months_! Does he even know it’s you?”

“No,” Scott answered.

“Shouldn’t we tell him?” Becca demanded angrily, turning to Scott. “He needs to know.”

“Not yet.” Scott was eying Derek with interest again, the toilet flushing down the corridor. “I’m not sure what to make of this yet, but for now, I’ll let it play out. But make note, Derek.” Scott motioned Becca, then himself. “Two Alphas, now. We’ll find you.”

Derek just snorted and stood, jumping off the armchair and padding towards the living room entrance in time for Stiles to reach him.

“Ready to go?” he asked with a smile, scratching behind Derek’s ear before looking up at his two friends. “Call me when you’re done, okay? We can go have dinner or something, hang out.”

“Sure,” Scott said.

“Thanks, Stiles.” Becca smiled at him. She was still radiating anger, but she hid it well, and Stiles couldn’t smell emotions. “I mean it. Thank you.”

“Scott’s doing all the work,” Stiles insisted with a wave of his hand. “But you’re welcome. Call me later.”

Waving one hand, Stiles exited the house with Derek in tow. When they got back to the car, Stiles opened the back door and Derek gave him a look. Stiles motioned him in a few times, but Derek just kept staring at him. When it was clear he didn’t get it, Derek wandered around the car to the passenger side door and sat down, waiting expectantly.

“Really?” Stiles asked with a sigh. “Man, you’re high maintenance. And not at the same time.” He opened the door and Derek jumped in, sitting down on the seat and looking out the windshield. Stiles crossed in front of the car and got behind the wheel so they could head to the pet store.

Dogs were allowed in because of the nature of the store, so Derek walked in beside Stiles, watching him peruse all the foods and muttering to himself. Deciding he wanted to leave sometime today, and figuring he could tolerate some over others, he went to sit beside a bag and stared at Stiles until he noticed. Once he did, he grabbed the bag and rubbed at Derek’s head.

He bought some jerky treats and a collar, but when he tried to find him a toy, Derek just made sure to look as bored and unimpressed as possible and Stiles gave up. He paid for all the items, then went to another counter to register Derek and get the tags engraved. He mentioned that Derek was a dog he’d found on the road, but the attendant said that he’d have a collar if he was owned, so he was probably a stray.

Stiles left his number anyway just in case someone was missing a dog, and got the collar onto Derek.

He hated it the second it was on, but didn’t try to take it off, because it meant he belonged to Stiles now. Derek could live with that, especially since Becca was apparently a lesbian and _not_  dating Stiles. That was nice.

They drove back towards the heart of town, Stiles feeding him jerky while he drove, and stopped at the diner he and his dad usually frequented. Derek had to wait in the car, but Stiles was only gone for a few minutes, and he returned with a bag of takeout and two milkshakes.

He called his dad before pulling out, and when they got to the station and parked, the sheriff was walking over to them, looking at Derek with an exasperated expression, likely noticing the collar.

“I bought you a burger and some curly fries,” Stiles informed him while they walked towards the park a block away from the station, Derek staying close to Stiles’ side.

“Bribing me with food I shouldn’t have. I know what it means, Stiles. You want to keep the dog.”

“His name is Robin, and we’re definitely keeping him if no one claims him.”

“Stiles—”

“He’s so well behaved!” Stiles insisted, motioning him with the elbow of the arm holding the tray of milkshakes. “Look at him! No leash or anything! Doorbell rang this morning and he didn’t bark! He’s, like, the epitome of a perfect dog!”

“Stiles, you’re in school. Who do you think is going to look after him?”

“He can practically take care of himself,” Stiles insisted, sitting down at one of the picnic tables in the park, his father across from him. Derek just lay down by Stiles’ feet in the sun, rolling onto his side and closing his eyes.

He listened to the two of them bicker, ear twitching when the sheriff mentioned neutering him. He definitely wouldn’t let things get _that_  far, but he let them argue about his shots and various other things and just figured he’d have to make sure he was brought in to Scott. Scott could lie and say he’d given him his shots and everything, nobody would know.

Stiles had finished his burger and most of his milkshake before his father finally grumbled and accepted defeat. Derek felt like his having stayed away from them while they ate burgers had probably helped.

When the sheriff left to head back to work, Stiles nudged Derek with his foot and he opened one eye.

“Welcome to the family, buddy,” Stiles said, holding out a beef patty.

Sitting up, Derek reached out and took the patty between his teeth, chomping down on it happily. If he was human, he would be groaning with pleasure, but as a wolf, he just let out a small growl.

Stiles grinned and leaned down to pet his head. He called Deaton’s clinic on his way back to the Jeep with Derek, and made an appointment for him to get a check-up and some shots. Derek had been hoping for Scott, but if he ended up in the examination room with Deaton, he would just turn human and make sure he didn’t stick him with anything he didn’t want stuck into him.

They headed home after that, Stiles lounging on the couch while watching TV and Derek lying on the floor beside him. It wasn’t what he wanted, this relationship with Stiles, but it was better than he’d ever had before.

Stiles always touched him, running his fingers through his fur or patting his flank. He even kissed the top of his head once while heading to the kitchen. This was the best relationship they had ever had, even if it wasn’t what Derek wanted.

In a way, he felt like having Stiles in this fashion was the best he was going to get, so he would hang on to it for as long as he could.

When five rolled around, Scott and Becca showed up at the house and they ordered pizza. Stiles fed Derek some of his new dog food—which tasted mostly like cardboard, but Derek tolerated it—and Scott tossed him a few pieces of pepperoni. He was smirking while doing it, so the action was more ridiculing than nice, but he’d kept his secret so far so he couldn’t complain.

Becca met the sheriff when he came home from work, and stayed the night in the guest room, glaring at Derek when he disappeared into Stiles’ room for bed. She left early the next morning, and Stiles left Derek home alone while he went to hang out with Scott.

He didn’t mind, because it allowed him time to do various things as a human. He’d had to take the collar off when he’d transformed, because no way was he walking around with the collar around his neck as a human, but he put it back on before turning back into a wolf.

He could do this. Be Stiles’ dog. It let him be close to him, and Derek would do anything to keep him within reach.

* * *

Derek didn’t know how long Stiles was home for, but it was weird how _normal_  everything felt after a week together. It was like Derek had always been Stiles’ dog, because he acted like he’d been there all along.

They spent a lot of time together, even though Derek refused to play fetch, and Stiles let him sleep in his bed every night, even though Derek had started taking up more and more of the bedspace. By the fourth night, he was half on top of Stiles, but he didn’t seem to mind, so Derek didn’t let it bother him.

The following Monday, Stiles took Derek out in the Jeep and headed in a direction Derek recognized. When they exited the vehicle, Derek was staring up at the building he’d been living in before he left.

“Come on,” Stiles said, moving to the building entrance and waiting for Derek to join him. They climbed the stairs and when they reached the top, Stiles pulled open the door leading into the loft.

It had been a long time since Derek had set foot in there, and he slowly walked into his old home, looking around. He was a little impressed with how good it looked. There was barely any dust, and all of his belongings looked as good as the last time he’d seen them.

Padding over to the couch, he jumped up onto it, and then sneezed when dust floated off it. Stiles let out a laugh on his way by, rubbing at his head and disappearing into the kitchen. Derek lay down, cocking his head to listen to what Stiles was doing, but he couldn’t figure it out.

When Stiles stepped out of the kitchen a few minutes later, he was holding a Swiffer base in one hand, and some wet Swiffer wipes in the other. Derek sat up, staring at him in confusion as Stiles got to work attaching one of the wet wipes onto the end of the base and then began to mop at the floor with it.

When they had shown up at the loft, Derek hadn’t known what he’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this.

Stiles was cleaning his apartment.

Stiles was legitimately cleaning his entire apartment.

That was why it didn’t look bad, because Stiles had obviously come by at Christmas before he left and cleaned it all up. Stiles was maintaining his apartment as if he believed Derek would be back soon. He wanted to make sure it was ready to be lived in the moment he got back.

Derek was so overwhelmed that for a second, he felt himself shifting back into a human before reigning the feeling in. Instead, when Stiles was finished washing and drying the bottom floor, Derek jumped off the couch and went over to him, bumping his nose against Stiles leg and then rubbing against him.

“Sorry buddy,” Stiles said, rubbing at the side of his face affectionately. “Smell’s probably killer on your nose, but I didn’t want to leave you home alone. A friend of mine lives here, but he hasn’t been around for a while. I just wanted to make sure the place was liveable for when he gets back.”

Derek buried his face against Stiles’ leg, trying to control the emotions running rampant through him. Stiles was talking like Derek was going to walk through the door tomorrow. Like he’d just been gone for a few days and was coming back any minute.

He hadn’t known. He wished he’d known how much Stiles actually missed him. He wished he hadn’t come back, because how was he supposed to leave now? He couldn’t be both Derek _and_  Robin, and he couldn’t _be_  like this as Derek.

Why had Stiles brought him here? It hurt too much to see this side of him.

Stiles patted his head affectionately before heading upstairs with a duster. Derek just went to the entrance and curled up in a ball by the door, miserable and ashamed.

He’d left them all thinking that none of them would care that he was gone. So far, he’d only encountered Scott and Stiles. Scott seemed pissed at him, and Stiles was desperately holding out for Derek to come back. He hadn’t thought they cared about him at all. He’d always thought they saw him as more of an inconvenience, but he was an ally so they tolerated him.

But this… this proved otherwise.

And Derek didn’t know how to handle that.

He stayed curled up by the door the entire time Stiles cleaned the top floor. When he came back down and finished up before putting everything away, Derek had never felt so ashamed in his life. But, he forced himself to stand when Stiles headed for the door, allowed him to scratch at his cheek, and followed him back outside to the Jeep.

He needed to talk to Scott.

* * *

Derek slept badly that night. He’d stuck closer to Stiles than usual, to the point where even Stiles noticed and smelled worried. He’d called Scott to figure out if something was wrong, but thankfully Scott had just played it off as ‘Robin’ probably sensing that Stiles was going back to school soon.

Which he was, and Derek hated that.

When they went to bed, Derek pressed himself between Stiles and the wall and curled against him, whining softly even though he was desperately trying not to. Stiles just hugged him and pressed his face into Derek’s neck, rubbing it against his fur.

When Derek fell asleep, he had weird dreams he couldn’t remember and shifted a lot in his sleep. When he woke with a start a few hours later, covered in sweat and panting, he rolled onto his back and ran one hand down his face, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart.

It only started going double time when he realized he was running his _hand_  down his _face_.

Eyes snapping open, he pulled his hand away and stared at it, realizing he’d shifted back into a human in his sleep. Turning to look at Stiles worriedly, he found him still on his side, facing him, eyes closed and breathing deep and even. His heart was slow and steady, and there was drool at the corner of his mouth.

Relieved, Derek ran his hand down his face again, and then very carefully sat up. He scooted down to the end of the bed and got to his feet, turning to look at Stiles while he slept and feeling his heart clench in his chest.

He wished he could wake up with Stiles like that every day, with him as a human instead of a wolf. He wished things could’ve been different, wished he’d come back as himself and apologized to Stiles, to Scott, to Malia.

He wished he wasn’t so bad with people.

Letting out a soft sigh, he crouched beside the foot of the bed and shifted back into a wolf, rolling his shoulders at the discomfort he felt. He had been comfortable as a wolf for so long that it felt weird suddenly hating it. He knew it was because he’d woken up with Stiles in his human form, but that wasn’t something he should get used to. Stiles liked Robin, and Derek had already taken himself away from him as Derek. He couldn’t take himself away from him as Robin, too.

Jumping back onto the bed, Stiles let out a small grunt when the movement jolted him awake, but Derek just moved back to his spot against him and Stiles reached out one arm, wrapping it around him and pulling him closer, face buried in his fur.

“It’s okay,” Stiles mumbled in his sleep, pulling Derek closer. “I forgive you.”

Derek pretended that Stiles was speaking to him, and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the ache in his chest.

* * *

When Stiles left for school the following week, Derek didn’t know what to do with himself. The sheriff was great, but he wasn’t Stiles, and more than once Derek wanted to just leave. He knew he couldn’t do that, because then the sheriff would think he’d run off and Stiles would be crushed, but it was a hard urge to resist.

The longer he went as a wolf without Stiles around, the more he wanted to tell the sheriff who he was. The only reason he didn’t was because he could tell his presence made the man less lonely. He missed Stiles almost as much as Derek did, and he often spoke to him when he was making dinner in the kitchen or locking up the house before heading out or going to bed.

Derek almost had a heart attack the day the sheriff was making sausages and tossed one to the ground, saying, “You can be yourself if you want. I won’t tell him.”

Derek hadn’t been sure he knew what the sheriff meant back then, but when he left the house one day and Derek found a note and some money on the table, it was pretty clear he’d figured it out.

Especially since the note said,

_Derek, we’re out of chicken, and if you want to eat some real food, go and buy some._

He’d almost wanted to just leave it and keep pretending, but it was pretty clear the sheriff wasn’t going to buy that, so Derek borrowed some of Stiles’ clothes—which were small and _tight_ —and took the money to go buy the chicken.

He also stocked up on some eggs and milk, and bought a pack of bacon even though he knew the sheriff shouldn’t eat it. He was just trying to suck up.

Derek had turned back into a wolf before the man got home, but when he saw the money gone and the new food in the fridge, he gave him a look before disappearing upstairs. When he came back down, Derek was sitting awkwardly at the kitchen table, wearing the same clothes he’d worn to the store.

“It’ll be nice having you talk back, for a change,” the sheriff said, moving to pull food out of the fridge and getting to work at the stove.

“How long have you known?” Derek asked quietly.

“Definitively? Since the day Stiles left. I started suspecting it was you after the first week you were here.”

“Why?” Derek asked with a frown, wondering what he’d done wrong.

The sheriff turned to him and gave him a look. “No dog is _that_  obedient, and you had this look on your face every time you watched Stiles move around a room. That and Scott looked mad every time he came over and saw you. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together.”

Derek hesitated before asking, “Does Stiles know?”

“Not that I know of,” the sheriff said, tossing the chicken into a pan and covering it with a lid. He turned to Derek, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. “Why didn’t you tell him you were back?”

“I didn’t know how,” he admitted. “I didn’t—I hadn’t realized how much I’d hurt him when I left. And now that I know, I can’t figure out how to apologize.”

The sheriff seemed to accept this answer and he turned back to the stove.

They ate dinner making light conversation, and when they headed up to bed, the sheriff told Derek to take his collar off before going to sleep so he didn’t choke. Derek felt like all the blood in his body had invaded his face when he realized he hadn’t even noticed he’d still been wearing it.

He went to get some clothes from his car the next day and he and the sheriff spent time together when he came home from work. Derek knew he should go back to the loft, but he liked being in Stiles’ house, even though his scent had begun to fade over time. His bed smelled more like Derek than it did Stiles, by now.

The sheriff never asked him to leave, and he almost expected Derek to still be there when he got home, calling out a greeting when he came through the door. It was a weird setup, and all Derek could think about was that they were both obviously lonely and desperately missing Stiles. Any company was better than no company, at this point.

The sheriff asked him one night during dinner if he was ever going to tell Stiles. Derek had admitted he didn’t know, and the sheriff never asked again.

By the end of the second month of Derek living there alone with the sheriff, they were sitting watching a baseball game together. When a commercial came on, Derek turned to the sheriff and said,

“I’m in love with Stiles.”

To which the sheriff responded, “Tell me something I don’t know,” and then took a sip of his beer.

Derek had decided that day that the sheriff had to have some kind of prophetic abilities, because he seemed extremely well informed, to a degree that was almost scary.

When Derek had just gotten used to their weird routine together, he was setting the table for dinner when the sheriff came home and told him Stiles’ exams had just ended and he was coming home for the summer in three days.

Derek’s heart relocated itself in his throat at the words, and he wondered if maybe he could just stay human and wait for him to arrive, explain everything, move forward.

When the sheriff came home the next day, a large wolf was lying on the couch, eyes opening when he entered the house before closing again. The man said nothing, and left a plate of beef and vegetables on the floor before heading up to his room.

When Stiles came home two days later, the elated smile on his face at the sight of Derek made his heart clench in his chest and Stiles bent down to hug him tightly.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here, buddy,” he said, pulling back and scratching at his neck.

“What did you think I was gonna do with him?” His dad asked gruffly, patting Derek on the muzzle playfully. “We’ve been bonding while you’ve been at school. Kept each other company while missing you.”

“Dad,” Stiles whined, burying his face in Derek’s neck.

“What? It’s true. Robin’s a good listener.”

Stiles kissed Derek’s head before standing and beginning to unload the Jeep. Derek watched him walk back and forth between the car and his room, but mostly stayed out of his way.

Two hours after Stiles had arrived, Becca showed up with another girl that was probably her girlfriend, Sarah. Becca glared down at Derek, but Sarah completely ignored him, acting as if he weren’t even there. Derek could only assume Becca had told her who he was and Sarah was as pissed as she was.

They left for Scott’s soon after that, and Stiles went for a short walk with Derek before joining them, bringing him along.

Scott seemed fine with his presence, and Derek could only assume he’d calmed down over the past few months. Besides, Derek was still _there_ , so that was something.

The four of them joked and laughed all night, Derek draped across Stiles' lap with his hand buried in Derek’s fur. When it was time to go, the girls followed and took the guest bedroom while Stiles and Derek disappeared into his own.

Once Stiles was in bed, Derek leapt up onto it and curled up beside him, burying his nose in Stiles’ armpit and relaxing almost immediately. Stiles was here, he was back. Everything was going to be okay.

* * *

Derek didn’t know how they had found him. He’d been there for months without any problems, so something must’ve happened to make them come after him now.

He didn’t know much about them, only that they were mercenaries for hire, same as Braeden had been, and for some reason he was at the top of the list.

He’d gone out to the preserve in his wolf form to check on his car since he hadn’t in months and wanted to make sure it wasn’t being lived in by bears. Stiles tended to let him out of the house when he was going to be gone the whole day, and he seemed to know Derek would always come back—which he did.

Today had only deviated from every other day because Derek had gone to the preserve to check on the car. Otherwise, it was the same as always.

He hunted a bit in the preserve just to keep his senses sharp, and made a slow lap around the entirety of the Hale territory, which took him a number of hours.

It was while he was heading back to Stiles’ just after dark that he sensed someone watching him. They were far enough away that he couldn’t pick them up with his senses, but close enough that he knew they were there.

He looked around himself, muzzle raised to sample the wind, but caught nothing. Whoever was out there was hiding too well, and the wind was going against him and thus not bringing forward any scents from behind him.

He’d made it only two miles through the preserve when they’d come after him.

They weren’t Hunters, which was what had led him to believe they were mercenaries. He’d tried to run, but they threw mountain ash in his path, blocking his escape routes, and eventually caught him in a wolfsbane-soaked net.

His skin burned beneath the fur, and he snarled and snapped angrily as the men approached him, five of them in total. One of them held a silver sword, Derek growling and struggling to get free. He wanted to shift back to human, but that would expose more of his skin, so he just howled loudly, hoping Scott would hear.

“Looks like we caught a fighter,” the closest man said, resting the sword against his shoulder and bending down, grinning at Derek. “Someone said there was a weird dog lurking around these parts. Imagine my surprise when I learned it was a Werewolf. And not just any Werewolf, but a Hale. There’re a lot of people who’d pay good money for you.” The man motioned Derek with his sword. “That wolf thing you can do? It’s unique to your family. Heard you’ve got a cousin who can turn into a coyote. She’s trickier to get to than you are, but we’ve got friends in places. Maybe we’ll pay her a visit, too.”

Derek roared angrily, shifting beneath the net and struggling to stand. No way would these people get Malia!

Or, heaven forbid, Cora.

When the man leaned just a _little_  too close, Derek leapt at him. The net was wrenched free from two people’s hands and Derek landed on the man with the sword, biting at him through the net, burning the inside of his mouth. He hastened to roll away when people tried to grab at the net again and managed to get free.

His entire back burned with pain but he turned tail and ran, pushing past the agony and trying to make it to the road. At least on the road, people would see what looked like a group of men chasing a dog. Hopefully someone would help.

He’d only made it about twenty feet when he skid to a halt, a line of mountain ash stopping him from advancing. Turning to face the men rushing toward him, one of them bleeding profusely from the injuries Derek had managed to inflict, he lowered his head and snarled viciously, ready to take them on when one near the back let out a shout and hit the dirt.

Scott had tackled him from behind and he roared in full Beta shift, slamming the man’s head repeatedly against the ground to knock him unconscious.

Derek saw Liam and another kid he didn’t know rushing at two of the other men, and Stiles raced up the middle with his trusty bat in hand, swinging at the man closest to him and cracking him in the head. He missed the other guy, who dodged to avoid him, but didn’t stop on his way to Derek, rushing past him and breaking the line of mountain ash.

“Go! Run!” Stiles yelled, moving in front of Derek and raising his bat. When Derek didn’t move, Stiles looked over his shoulder and shouted, “Derek, _run_!”

Hearing his name, his _real_  name, escape Stiles’ mouth shocked him into action. He turned and bolted past the fallen barrier, heading for the road as fast as he could. He actually careened out onto it and barely avoided getting run over by a police cruiser. Luckily it swerved and the driver slammed on the brakes a few feet away.

When the door opened, Parrish hopped out, giving Derek only the briefest of glances before disappearing into the woods. More sirens were coming down the road and Derek moved out of the way, his entire frame shaking from the pain of the wolfsbane.

When three more cruisers stopped and officers disappeared into the woods, Derek saw the sheriff exiting another vehicle and hurrying towards him.

“Scott called. Are you okay?” Derek whined, and the sheriff interpreted that to mean what it did. “Can you walk?”

Derek managed to make it to the cruiser, but the sheriff had to help him into the back. He lay down and struggled to ignore the pain, growls escaping him every few seconds.

The sheriff was driving with the siren on, so they made it to the clinic quickly. He had to carry him inside, but Deaton was already waiting for him, holding open the swinging door that led into the back and following the sheriff to the examination room.

When Derek was put down on the table, he howled and turned to snap his jaw at Deaton when the man pressed down on his back.

“Derek, you need to shift back.”

That was like asking a man on fire to calm down.

Deaton was moving quickly around the room, collecting vials and grabbing items that definitely weren’t part of his medical profession.

Derek struggled to breathe and let out a loud cry of pain when he half-shifted. His back felt like it was on fire, lines of pain racing up his neck. Everywhere the net had touched burned, and he wanted nothing more than to just pass out.

It felt like an eternity before he was fully human again, the cool table beneath him a welcome relief against his heated, sweat-covered skin.

Deaton and the sheriff were speaking over him quickly, and Derek screamed when something wet was slathered along a line of pain on his back.

He lost track of how much time passed before he finally fell unconsciousness.

* * *

When Derek woke, he felt infinitely better than he had when he’d passed out. The injuries he’d sustained had long since healed, and he was clothed in loose-fitting pants and a long-sleeved shirt, tucked beneath a mound of blankets in a bed so comfortable he never wanted to leave it.

It took him a few seconds after waking to realize that the bed was so comfortable because it smelled like Stiles, and that was when he clued in to the fact that he was currently lying in Stiles’ bed.

Opening his eyes, Derek rolled onto his back, struggling to get his hazy mind more conscious, and then turned to look beside him.

Stiles was sitting at his desk, back to the bed with his face in his hands. It looked like he was reading something.

Derek sat up slowly, eyes locked on the back of Stiles’ head, and when he went to swing his legs over the side so he could try and leave without being heard, the bed creaked and Stiles turned.

Freezing in place with one foot on the floor and the other on the bed, Derek stared at Stiles wide-eyed, feeling a thousand times more terrified now than he had back in the woods.

“How are you feeling?” Stiles asked, rotating his chair around so he was facing Derek.

“Better,” he said, voice rough and scratchy from too many days of being a wolf. He hesitated, then asked, “Scott told you?”

“I knew,” he admitted, raising one shoulder in a shrug.

Derek’s mouth went dry but he kept his face impassive. Stiles couldn’t smell anything he was feeling, so as long as he kept his face a neutral mask, he was safe.

“How long?”

“Since before I left.” That wasn’t what Derek was expecting to hear. “I was actually worried you were going to be gone before I came back.”

Had _everyone_  been able to tell it was him?! Why did Stiles pretend then?!

“How did you find out?”

Stiles frowned, as if trying to remember something, then seemed to give up and said, “You were having a nightmare one night. I woke up because you were whining and when I reached out to you, you were lying where my dog should’ve been.” He shrugged. “It didn’t take long to put two and two together, considering we all know you can turn into a wolf.”

That night, when Derek had woken up as human, Stiles had woken up before him and seen who he was, but he hadn’t said anything.

It suddenly occurred to Derek that when Stiles had pulled him close and sleepily mumbled that he forgave him, he’d been speaking _to_  Derek.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, voice a little harsher than he’d intended.

“I figured you would tell me when you were ready. It’s called compassion, Derek, maybe you’ve heard of it?” Stiles said dryly. “If I’d confronted you or said anything to you then, you would’ve run. Don’t deny it.” Stile pointed a finger at Derek when he’d opened his mouth to speak. “You would’ve run. I’d literally just gotten you back, I didn’t want to lose you again. Leaving for school was quite possibly the hardest thing I’ve ever done, because I was positive I’d come back to you gone. So when I walked into the house and saw you still here, I just…” Stiles rubbed one hand over his mouth, shaking his head and then pushed the same hand up to rake through his hair. “I wanted you to stay, without anyone forcing you to. Without us guilting you into it. I wanted _you_  to choose whether or not you were gonna stay, and you did. And I was so happy.”

Stiles rubbed his hand down his face again, letting out a sigh and then rubbing the back of his neck with the same hand. It was like he couldn’t sit still.

“Malia’s the one who told us about the mercs. She said they’d been following her around for a while so she went into hiding last week. When Scott heard you howl, he knew it had to be them so he got the Pack out and I called dad.” Stiles shrugged. “We figured human perps, human solution. Scott and the others bolted before the cops showed up, but the guys are all in jail on a bunch of different charges Parrish and dad made stick. They’ll think twice before coming to collect in Beacon Hills next time.”

Derek was glad to hear Malia was safe, but now he didn’t know what to do with himself. He’d wanted to stay so he could be close to Stiles, but Stiles knew it was him. He’d known almost all along.

 _But then again,_ a quiet, hopeful voice in his mind said. _He knew it was you, and he cuddled with you anyway._

Derek had been a wolf—or dog, whatever—though. It was easy for Stiles to hug him in his sleep, he wasn’t _really_  Derek.

Stiles seemed to pick up on all of Derek’s thoughts, because he stood from his seat and moved to sit beside Derek on the bed, watching him closely. Derek avoided looking at him, focussing instead on a spot on the wall behind Stiles.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he said.

Derek’s heart felt like it was breaking apart at those words.

“Will you stay?” Stiles asked quietly after an impossibly long silence.

“Do you want me to?” he asked back, just as softly.

“I would do anything to make you stay.” Stiles reached out one hand and took Derek’s in his, lacing their fingers together.

Derek stared down at their linked hands, wondering if he hadn’t died in the forest and this was all just a dream. He looked up at Stiles, who was staring right back.

Stiles brought their linked hands to his lips and kissed the back of Derek’s before dropping them back down. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Derek’s, and closed his eyes.

“Do you understand?” he asked.

It was crazy to even think it, but Derek did. He thought it, and he believed it, and he _did_  understand.

“Yes.”

“Will you stay?” Stiles asked again, pulling away and opening his eyes.

“As long as you want me to,” Derek said, Stiles smiling broadly and leaning forward to brush his lips lightly against Derek’s.

“Forever it is, then.”

Derek smiled and pressed forward, pushing his lips more firmly against Stiles’.

Forever.

He could live with that.

**END.**


End file.
